


Sowing Obsession (ZenoHika Week 2020)

by Wysteria_Fox



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Gore, Cutting, Depression, F/M, Frustration, Heterosexual Sex, Hunter and Hunted, Infatuation, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Penis In Vagina Sex, Self Harm, Self Loathing, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Mutilation, So much angst, Vomiting, all sex is fantasized, as in they are doing at the same time unknowingly to the other, chapter 4 is the gore chapter, chapter 5 is the nsfw chapter, kind of mutual masturbation, mostly because zenos imagines the WoL being conflicted about having sex with him but also wanting it, mutual denial, predator and prey, the fantasized sex is consent but it seems kind of dub con, they're continets apart though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wysteria_Fox/pseuds/Wysteria_Fox
Summary: Zenohika week short stories for Zenos and my WoL Wysteria. These take place during Stormblood and are within the canon of my longfic Dawn Lily, Dusk Rose.“Wasn’t this months ago?” Shhhhh. I suck under pressure. Also depression.Day 1 - HungerDay 2 - CandleDay 3 - DanceDay 4 - Hunter and HuntedDay 5 - RuinDay 6 - LettersDay 7 - Gift
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 40





	1. Hunger

It was the hardest fall she had taken in recent memory. Lying on the ground like an injured beast, the Highlander curled in on herself. The Warrior of Light couldn’t remember the last time she felt so ill. Actually, that was a lie, she could. Intrusive thoughts: It played out, scene by scene. So fast, and yet, slow enough to absorb every painful detail: her elezen knight bleeding out in her arms, asking her to smile— no. Wysteria wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on a failure on top of a failure, lest she suffer a mental breakdown.

_ It hurts, it hurts, it hurts... _

The Hyur shakily brought a hand to her chest. Wet, warm, and sticky. How had the bastard not cut her in half? And they said frilly dancer attire wasn’t protective. Kami bless the seamstress who wove the enchanted threads together. It saved her life. Her pride, however, was in tatters.

“H-how… I don’t...” Her voice cracked and she stopped for fear of turning into a whimpering mess before the enemy.

Steel clattered to the ground, a pin drop among the blazing fires. 

His voice drawled through the resperiorator of his helmet. “Pathetic.”

Wysteria bit down her lower lip hard as tears came to her eyes. Those three syllables stung more than his blade. Her mind screamed, a thousand angry voices that agreed with him.

_ Pathetic, pathetic, you’re so pathetic! You failed! This is your fault! Why did you lose? How could you do this! People died because of you. No one will want you now. You finally found your purpose only to fuck it up, because of course you would. You never do anything right. You’re a nobody, a fake, a fraud. Now everyone will see you for the sham you are. It’s about time people found out you’re a loser. You’re not a hero. You’re pathetic, pathetic, so pathetic. _

His armor rattled with each step. 

_ So, this is it. This is where it ends. _

Wysteria prepared for the final blow. None came. The sound of the Garlean was growing distant, not louder. More footsteps, imperials rushed past her. They were leaving.

_ Am I not worthy to be killed? Do I fail at that too?! _

It was stupid, she knew, but it was too late to stop herself. The pain ripped through her chest as she screamed; the Warrior couldn’t contain her fury. “It’s not fair!” Her last word echoed through the reach, her voice ringing in her ears. 

_ I sound like a child. A dumb, pathetic child. _

Zenos did not look back, but he did stop. An onze of fear shot through Wysteria’s heart. Idiot. Pushing what little luck she had was not the smartest move. He would kill her now, no doubt. 

The wind picked up, blowing up sand and golden locks in a beautiful display. “To the weak, I suppose it never is. Such is the way of this dull play we are forced to partake in. Nurture that  _ hunger _ , pup. Feed it until it eats a hole through your very soul. Mayhaps then you will be strong enough.” 

And with that, he left.

“I hate you.... I hate you...” She sobbed, thankful that he couldn’t hear or see her. The tears would no longer heed her will. They flowed freely and sprinkled the dirt. 

_ But I hate me even more. _

Zenos laid the seeds, and obsession took root in the woman’s heart; a connection born between them that only grew. He was on her mind. She was on his. Who was the hunter and who was the prey? It didn’t matter. Wysteria wanted to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t pathetic. From the Fringes to Doma, and beyond, she could think of nothing but him. They would fight and she would defeat him. 


	2. Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Candle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self harm, suicidal thoughts, and angst.

The Warrior of Light could not sleep. As comforting as it was to be back home in Kugane, she was restless. The Garlean was the only thing on her mind. Ever since her defeat at Rhalgar’s Reach, she’d been studying the crown prince like a woman possessed. There wasn’t much information documented that wasn’t already common knowledge. Zenos was an enigma even to his own people. It infuriated her. What the hell was this man?

_ How did he do it? That explosion… it was like he lashed out with his very soul. What was that? Magic? But he’s a Garlean! They can’t use magic, right? Come on! There has to be something in here!  _

Wysteria flipped through the tome’s pages. Her speed increased gradually with a lack of answers until it culminated into her ripping pages out in frustration. 

“No! No! No! None of this is helping me!”

The dancer threw the book against the wall. She hissed through her teeth, hands clenched and pulling at her hair. The anger remained as intense as the first day. Her mind kept replaying the memory of her loss at his hands. It was pure torture to watch herself fail over and over again. No one was more critical of the Warrior than herself. This gave her depression so much ammunition. The Hyur wanted to learn something from her experience, but try as she might, she couldn’t grasp it. The Garlean and his technique remained a mystery.

_ I have to get stronger. I have to win. If I don’t… _

She couldn’t name all the consequences if she lost again. Too much lay on the line. Freeing Ala Mhigo was one thing, but now Doma was on the table? As if she didn’t have enough shit to deal with. Kami, she wanted to cry. The pressure to please and succeed for her companions was crushing. Panic was setting in; her nervous mind fanned the flames. 

_ I don’t know if I can do this. Everyone will hate me if I fail. They’ll throw me away. They’ll see that I’m actually useless. They won’t want me anymore! _

Her heart began to race. Wysteria knew she couldn’t let despair take her now lest she suffer a breakdown. She couldn’t afford to do that. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she sat down on the bed. Crossing her hands over her chest, she began to think pleasant thoughts while tapping to a simple rhythm. The panic attack slowly, but surely, eased. Her thoughts were clearer.

_ Freeing Ishgard, stopping Nidhogg, and saving Estinien felt impossible too. It took time, but I did it. I helped those who needed me. They aren’t complaining. No one is talking behind my back saying I could have done better. I just did the best I could. I’m one person. Even if I am a hero, they know that. I’m not a sham. They don’t hate me. I’m not useless. This is true. These are facts. _

The dark monster of self-hatred was determined to say otherwise. It was an endless battle, an exhausting one. Sometimes she was tempted to give up completely. If she wasn’t so fearful of nothing beyond death, maybe she would. 

_ If my faith was stronger… I shouldn’t think like that. It’s just my self preservation instinct. That’s a good thing. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die... Kami, why does this still tempt me after all these years? This death drive, does everyone have it? No. I’m just a freak. My mind is wired all wrong. _

Wysteria stared at the candle on her desk, the wax burnt down nearly to the base. She dipped her fingers into the hot liquid. A dull sting filled the tips, but nothing so bad as to yank them out. It helped her focus on the present rather than the unknown.

“I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all. I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.” She repeated to herself. 

The flame flickered before taking on a different shape: tall, large, and elegant. Zenos… his moves, his size, his strength, he was an overwhelming enemy. She hated him, feared, and envied him since their clash. And yet… the Warrior admired him in a way. Not since her days as a Sprout had she felt a rush like he had given her. 

Wysteria blew the fire out as the image raised his blade for the final blow. The wound on her chest ached. “I’m not pathetic. I’ll show you.”

  
  


_ ******  _

Steam rose from the large stone tub. The room was dim, lit with a dozen scented candles that reeked of lavender. He personally hated the smell. It was too calming and detached his senses further. He much preferred the stench that filled the battlefield: blood, sweat, and tears.

_ The water is warm, at least. That isn’t too hard for the fools to remember.  _

Those who served him were no more than machines in Zenos’ eyes— soulless creatures that begged for table scraps. They were pathetic, squawking whatever was expected of them. It was so incredibly boring. 

The viceroy preferred loneliness over the automatons. He’d sooner converse with a savage than one from the empire. At least the savage would offer an onze of entertainment. That didn’t make him immune to the bite that came with solidarity.

Zenos craved the companionship of a worthy fighter, one that saw the world as he did, another that embraced violence and excelled— a connection, a pack mate, a beast.

As a child, he’d wondered why he felt so isolated surrounded by others. Apathy followed his every step. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized it was everyone else who was the problem. He was perfect. They were flawed and broken, defying their brutal natures for the sake of civility. How dull, unnatural, a fragile lie. He wouldn’t be shackled to it. Never. Man may be above other animals, but that did not change their beastly status. He called himself a huntsman, but in reality, he was a lion commanding sheep.

Zenos shaved the last bit of stubble along his neck. He caught his reflection in the straight blade and glared. An old urge was blooming within him.

_ So much potential only to disappoint. They always do. They always do… _

Without hesitation, Zenos stuck the blade in his forearm. He enjoyed the sensation, any arduous stimuli really. He’d come a long way from self harm 12 years ago, yet sometimes he needed to go back to it when he felt especially numb. 

He casually dragged the blade down his arm. The blood rose to the surface of his skin and he smeared it around with his fingers. The comfort was faint, but it was soothing nonetheless.

_ Why would this time be any different? _

He dotted his forehead with blood, leaving a red sheen on his third eye. 

_ Such a promising  _ _ résumé  _ _ too. Slayer of Gods, the Black Wolf, Bahamut’s Conqueror, ancient dragons, tyrants, the list goes on. And yet, you could barely withstand one blow. _

He drew the knife down his other arm and hissed through his teeth. Not because of the pain, but because he had once again failed to find worthy prey.

_ If only I could feel that glimmer of excitement from so long ago.  _

He remembered the rage of his instructor, how he aimed to kill him. Zenos’ heart had been racing as he ran the man through. The adrenaline rush was faint, but to his young unfeeling mind, it had been incredible. Ever since that day, he starved for another opponent that would elicit the same emotions.

His icy eyes moved to the flame of one of the candles surrounding the tub. He saw her, the Champion of the Savages, dancing and twirling with her chakrams. The scream of pure rage as he walked away echoed in his mind, the cry of a wounded and furious beast. One that wanted him dead. He smiled. 

_ Heroes are ultimately drawn to villains. We will meet again. I am sure of it. Harness your fury. Give me something to remember, or else…  _

Zenos snuffed the flame out between his fingers. 


	3. Dance

“Are you mad?” 

Lyse grabbed Wysteria by the arm. Ripples formed on the water’s surface, her foot hovering an inch above it.

The Ala Mhigan’s tone cut into her like a knife. And here she thought she’d been sneaky enough to tiptoe past her companions. Unfortunately, this Warrior of Light was far from a ninja.

Her mind flailed around for a response, leaving the empty air to fill with awkwardness. She felt like a scorned child caught stealing a cookie.

“I want to keep Yugiri safe.” Wysteria finally said. It wasn’t a lie.

“Like Hells you do!” The Scion snapped. Her brows pulled together soon after, regret contorting her features. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t… that didn’t come out right.” she released the adventurer’s arm. “I know you want to fight him, but if we lose you—“

Eyes glassy, the Hyurian woman fought against the tears threatening to spill over. “I won’t.” She shrugged her shoulders up, head tucked in as if that would prevent the interrogation. Physical or not, no turtle shell would stop Lyse.

“How do you know that!?”

_ I don’t. _

“It will be okay.” was all the Warrior said.

“Tell me why.” Lyse demanded.

The dancer wracked her brain again. “Like… like Yugiri said, we can end it all now.”

Lyse let out a dry chuckle. “Because you’re going to let her assassinate Zenos?”

“Yes? Yes. That’s the plan.” that did not come out as confidently as she’d hoped.

That someone could possibly assassinate the viceroy was laughable. It was worth a try, but the Warrior didn’t see it coming to fruition. If It failed, she could seize her chance. She could get her revenge, put the bastard in his place like she had every other foe. She’d show him.

“You know that won’t work.” Lyse said.

“I’ll be there if it doesn’t.” 

“Then you will get the rematch with Zenos like you’ve been dying for, right?” 

Wysteria’s cheeks burned red. Had Lyse seen through her? Surely not. “What do you mean?” she played dumb, though it was hardly convincing.

The Scion removed a book from her pack and held it up to the Warrior of Light. An icy chill ran through her.

“H-how um… did y-you—“ she stuttered, unsure of how to retaliate.

“After three years, I didn’t realize you were such a bookworm. Funny. You’re quite invested in royal imperial history and surveillance, specifically focusing on a certain prince.”

She shoved the tome into Wysteria’s arms. The Highlander stood with her mouth agape, dumbfounded. It took her even longer to think of a reply.

“I was, uh… I’m studying our enemy. Is t-that a crime now?” Wysteria sounded more defensive than she had intended, making her look even more guilty.

“I understand more than anyone how you feel about Zenos.” Lyse said, softly.

Wysteria’s lips formed a hard line as she bit her tongue.  _ You don’t understand at all. _

“I know you’re eager to face him—I am too! But we need to prepare. This spur-of-the-moment plan is only going to get you two killed.”

Logic dictated that Lyse was right; however, Wysteria’s emotional side had always been stronger and could trump reason easily. 

Her thoughts, along with her heart, raced.  _ She doesn’t believe in me anymore. Which means neither do the others. I’m not good enough. I’ve failed one too many times. I have to prove that I am. I am good enough now! I’m stronger! I am! I have to be! _

Cracks were forming upon her quiet, stoic, and fake persona she fought to uphold—someone who knew what the hells they were doing. Wysteria was nothing like that. Not really. She was just a fake hero, a fluke, a lucky idiot—or so she believed.

“Please. Wait.” begged Lyse. “Just a little while longer and then I promise we can give Zenos what for.”

“I…” the dancer stopped. The Warrior bit down on her lower lip as it trembled. If she spoke another word, she knew she’d burst into tears. Wysteria wouldn’t allow that. She dived into the water, leaving the Ala Mhigan to stare after her.

******

The Raen was found on the outskirts of Namai, gazing longingly towards the barrier between Doma and the castle. Her hazel eyes grew wide as she saw the Warrior of Light approach. 

“You do not have to do this.” the ninja said. She placed a hand over her heart. “Are you sure?”

Wysteria smiled and gave a firm nod.

Relief flooded the Doman’s features. “A shinobi’s life is one of solitude, but full glad am I that you chose to remain by my side.”

They made their way across the Glittering Basin and near the ruins of Yuzuka Manor, a place now inhabited no longer by noble samurai but Namazu. According to the shinobi’s intel, this was where Zenos would start his regional audit. 

On the roof of a servant’s housing area, they found their vantage point. The Doman and Hingan-Ala Mhigan waited for their target. 

After staking the place out for over an hour...

“He comes.” Yugiri said.

Wysteria squinted down below. There was a small unit of guards, Yotsuyu, and at the helm was the Viceroy.

_ Zenos yae Galvus. Look how casually he’s walking! Like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I can’t stand him and his weird butt cape. It’s so stupid. He’s going to regret being born when I’m done with him. All the people he’s hurt and killed… I’ll make him pay! _

She attempted to hype herself up with positivity and filler she could hardly call confidence. Her demons came sooner to tear her down than she expected. The intrusive thoughts were unrelenting. They told her she was a fraud, unworthy and too weak to defend anyone, that she would be better off dead.

“One strike is all it will take.” Yugiri snapped the Warrior away from her own self loathing. 

Wysteria gripped her chakrams tightly, glaring down at the Legatus. 

_ I shouldn’t, but I want the last shot at him. _

The Doman deserved the kill more than she did. Yugiri wanted justice for Lord Kaien and more. Wysteria did too but she also had her own selfish desires: petty vengeance, to prove that she had worth. To whom? Zenos, yes, but mostly her own esteem, her worst critic. 

The Shinobi made her move and joined the shadows. The guards dropped dead one by one with nary a sound. She knew the Au Ra was skilled, but this was something else to witness. It was more like Yugiri was helping her rather than the other way around. Truly, she was putting everything she had into this ploy.

The way to Zenos was clear. The other imperials were not yet aware of their losses. This was it. Anxiety knotted her stomach, and she held her breath.

_ She might actually pull this off.  _

Wysteria hoped while her worst side ached with dread. The Raen came down upon him, her blades glinting in the moonlight. It would be a quick and clean kill. At least, it should have been. Zenos suddenly grabbed his katana without warning and sparks flew. Confusion and fear flashed across the ninja’s face. Yugiri’s technique was flawless, and yet it was still not enough. Zenos’ might was otherworldly. 

“Ambush!” The unit’s leader screamed at a comical pitch.

The Warrior felt an inkling of relief that Zenos still stood, but guilt quickly swamped her. So much pain could have ended right there if not for her selfish wish. The kami just had to answer that one, apparently.

“How weak you are. Is this the sum of your hate?” Zenos drawled.

She couldn’t dwell on it now. The viceroy was staring Yugiri down, and the imperials were closing in. The Hyur took down two from the rooftop easily enough. It blew her cover. The Warrior of Light climbed down from her hiding place and brandished her chakrams as she took on an onslaught of soldiers, drawing their attention from the ninja.

Yugiri’s voice quivered with rage. “This is only the beginning. For Lord Kaien! For Doma!”

Zenos grumbled something to Yotsuyu that Wysteria didn’t catch. He spoke louder. “Then again, I am loath to expend effort on the unworthy. Come—earn the honor.”

Together with Yugiri, the Warrior of Light engaged Zenos. Her hope and determination rose with each successful hit. They left the viceroy unscathed, but making contact at all felt like a mini victory compared to their last battle.

Wysteria kept her distance from the Garlean, and he chided her for it.

“Run, beast! Run!”

His words got under her skin like no other, a scalpel with pinpoint precision to reach just the right nerve. As a dancer, it was in her best interest to stay several fulms between her and her target unless there was a “tank”, as the adventurers called it, to defend her. Was he calling her a coward for her tactics? The Warrior moved in closer, glaring into the dark sockets of his helm. For the first time, she realized the white paint reminded her of a skull, a walking armor of death.

_ I don’t need to run to kick your ass!  _

More imperials arrived. Yugiri held them off while Wysteria continued to chip away at Zenos’ defenses. The blows she took mounted up, and each one hurt more than the last. It didn’t matter. What little pride she had was desperate to prove itself.

_ This jerk is built like a tank, but I’m getting somewhere. I can feel it! _

Zenos suddenly stopped. “Alright.”

The fighters stared each other down. There was a rustle of leaves. Wysteria felt drizzle kiss her cheek. Thunder roared throughout the countryside, summoning down sheets of rain. 

“Huh?” Wysteria did the most foolish thing a fighter could do. Confused, she lost focus and lowered her guard ever so slightly.

The prince wrapped his fingers around a white hilted blade. As he withdrew it from the revolver, a burst of powerful and terrible energy erupted from him. It nearly made the Warrior faint as it pushed and stunned her in an insultingly familiar way. Of all his moves, she hated that one the most. She had no idea how it worked. Sure, he impaled his sword tip in the ground, but that hardly told her how to avoid it. 

“Very well, beast. You have earned the right to gaze upon Ame-no-Habikiri. Now, let us put you to the proof.”

Yugiri could not endure his attack and collapsed. “No! I must go on… I must…”

Wysteria baited his ire away from the Au Ra. As long as she kept him focused on her, she could keep the shinobi mostly safe. Slashing down with her chakrams, she realized she was back at square one. He’d been testing her until now, merely pretending that her attacks were somewhat effective when in reality she was nowhere close to hindering him. Zenos acted as if he had fought this same battle forever, a dance he’d rehearsed every day, the choreography infused in his very flesh. Nothing Wysteria did took him off guard, and she was running out of options. 

And yet, despite it all, the risk and the challenge was exciting. It was frustrating, but strangely, the Warrior of Light was also having fun, like she was clashing with a force of nature. That’s what the viceroy may as well have been. A smile tugged at her lips as she continued to lash out. That feeling ended abruptly.

“Give me something to remember!” Zenos hissed.

The deadly power coursing through the red katana swept out in an arc. It came too fast to evade, so she did her best to mitigate the damage with shield samba. It may as well have been a paper bag than crystallized aether that surrounded the Hyur. The technique was new and one she had not yet mastered. Against Zenos, it offered her no protection. The crystal bulb shattered upon impact. 

Wysteria tumbled and rolled until her momentum came to a slow halt. Zenos strode towards her.

_ Not like this.  _ With all her might, she urged her muscles on. Climbing to her knees was the best she could do. _ Come on! _

He stopped several fulms away. “Ah, I remember you. Ala Mhigo. The champion of the savages.”

“Nngh…” the dancer whined.

Zenos didn’t mock her like she expected a villain to. No, his voice was just as monotone and bored as their first encounter. 

Wysteria’s eyes fell upon his blade, a beautiful piece of tempered steel that radiated with the kami’s might.

_ Where in the seven hells did he get such a weapon?  _ She wondered. 

As she looked upon Ame-no-Habkiri, Urianger’s words came to her: a far eastern prophecy he’d recited before they left for Kugane.  _ “Look ye where the sun doth rise, see crimson embers, darkening skies. Look ye where the sun doth fall, see azure lost amidst the squall.” _

As much as she enjoyed poetry and thought it was pretty, she’d never pretend to know what it actually meant. Still, it rekindled hope within her heart.

The viceroy raised his blade to deliver the final blow.

_ I have to move! Go! Legs!  _ They didn’t budge. The rain had soaked the soil, turning it into a thick sludge. _ I don’t want to die. I…  _ her fingers curled, burying them into the mud. Wysteria prayed. _ Kami, give me strength. Rhalgar, guide my hand.  _ A rock the size of her fist scraped against her palm. She was thankful for the showers. It masked the tears streaming down her cheeks.

_ Let me strike like lightning. Give me this one shot! _

Snap! The man froze, staring at her in disbelief.

She didn’t know what to expect, but Wysteria wanted to do more than break his armor. What she didn’t realize was just how strong Garlean steel was, and she’d broken a piece off with a mere pebble.

_ I missed…  _ her head drooped.  _ I guess Inari spared all the luck they could give me. I should have listened to Lyse. She was right. I’m an idiot, and I’m going to die like one. I deserve this. But I don’t want it. Mama, papa, Ren… I’m so sorry. I wasn’t good enough.  _

The dancer closed her eyes and prepared for the end. Instead; she heard a click. Her enemy had sheathed his katana. He removed his helmet, revealing the villain underneath. 

She glared at him, growling in her throat.

“Oh, how right I was to spare your life.” 

His gaze reflected the sky and was just as empty. He was a gorgeous man with a strong aquiline nose and hooded eyes. His “third eye” was round and pristine, like the surface of a pearl.

As he watched her, a lion circling his prey, his irises filled with light, and his lips curled into a soft smile. At that moment, something horrifying happened. The Warrior’s heart fluttered, filling her chest with embers that burned across her body. It ached. It yearned. Wysteria quickly pushed the feeling down, disgusted with herself. Albeit a twisted echo, this grin reminded her of Haurchefant’s. 

“Hear me, hero.” his helmet sank into the mud with a clunk. “Endure. Survive. Live. For the rush of blood, for the time between seconds – live. For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world – live!”

What he said struck her directly in her core, sending tingles across her skin.

Zenos turned his back to her, “We are done here.”

“Hey! D-don’t walk away from me…” fire raged in her soul. 

“So eager for blood.” Zenos waved a hand, dismissing her. “You cannot brandish a weapon let alone stand. Lick your wounds, beast. You are far too pitiful to properly entertain me.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m… I’m— ”

Like grains of sand, the last onze of the Warrior’s sanity slipped through her fingers. Her vision turned red. Bones and muscles screamed in protest as she forced herself to her feet. It shouldn’t have been possible to stand. In fact, with each movement, she hurt herself. Wysteria didn’t care. Her mind was in a haze. Soaked and smeared with mud, the woman threw what could only be called a fury induced tantrum. She didn’t even bother to pick up her chakrams or change her crystals from dancer to monk. With a lunge, her hands aimed to grab anything: his silky tresses were the easiest target she could see, and she sought to rip them from the root.

Zenos knew. He spun around and slapped her, busting her lip open. Wysteria fell in the mud, spitting blood, but that didn’t stop her. She came at him over and over: punching, clawing, biting, and snarling like a rabid animal. Failure had forced her into a feral state, ignoring the desperate pleas of her body to stop. The pain was a tool to provoke her further. 

Wysteria was not trained to handle anger like the berserking warriors of Abalathia’s Spine. She’d never taken that discipline. Her source was inherent to all mankind in times of strife, a reservoir that Zenos had spent years attempting to tap into again. The dancer’s frustration mounted, and she screeched. She wasn’t thinking—she couldn’t. Her anger, embarrassment, and envy had consumed her. This was exactly what Zenos desired. 

“Now this is a  _ savage _ .” he purred. “A beast pushed to the very brink of madness. Look at her eyes! Look how they radiate with pure animosity.” 

Yotsuyu followed his orders, glaring at the Highlander.

“Such a fool.” he said. “Very well, I will play your game a while longer. Let us see if I can squeeze more from you. I shall even stoop down to your level for a better… hmm, experience.” Yotsuyu fumbled and nearly dropped the gauntlets thrown her way. “Show me your all!”

The Warrior fought sloppily, using whatever underhanded trick she could think of. It didn’t help. She had no chance of winning. Deep down, she knew that, but her instincts wouldn’t let her stop. Zenos easily countered her every low blow with one of his own. After giving her a genuine strike, he slipped in a punch to her tit, and the same damn one, every time she failed to nail his groin. 

Zenos took her by the arm and twisted, popping her shoulder out of its socket briefly, then tossed her overhead. The Highlander rolled through the mud. There was a crunch as she stood again, fracturing her tibia. A howl of agony echoed through the land. That should have been enough to stop anyone, but Wysteria was in full idiot mode. Zenos quirked a brow as she continued her assault, limping and slow. She feinted before swinging around to punch. The prince came down upon her with an open palm. It collided with her face, yet rather than recoil, the Highlander got the chance she’d been hoping for.

****

“Ahh...” Zenos gasped, a reaction of surprise rather than pain.

Her teeth sank deep, jaw held tight. Blood pooled around the corners of her lips, blending into the ruby color of her painted lips.  _ His  _ blood. It throbbed with delicious pain, alighting his nerves with sensation. The woman had nearly bitten through the muscle that connected his thumb to his palm. Rarely was he wounded, and certainly not like this. What was this feeling? It was vaguely similar to the one he’d had 12 years ago; after slaying his teacher.

Zenos’ head swam, and he gave it a light shake to bring himself back to his senses. “Is that a nibble?” his words poked the beast in just the right place. The woman was fuming, her freckled cheeks bright and burning. “Surely you can do better than that. Show me your fangs, rend my flesh. Bite me!” He growled.

She answered his request, drawing her mouth downwards and peeling the hide off his knuckles. His stomach twisted in a way foreign to him. The Highlander bit down harder and harder. The fury, the desperation, the need, it never left her gaze. After years of unworthy prey, of unsatisfying agony he’d inflicted upon himself, he found this— _ her _ . 

“Oh…” his brows knitted together. “You do indeed hold promise, woman.”

Yotsuyu appeared uneasy. Her Lord had allowed a filthy savage to bite him! What other answer could there be? The mongrel could barely hit him a second ago. Enemies, allies, no one could lay a finger on the Garlean unless he allowed it. What was happening? 

“But, you have yet to bloom.” 

The sudden gentleness of his voice contrasted his actions. Zenos grabbed hold of one of her twin tails. Rather than try to yank her away, he pressed his trapped hand deeper into her mouth while simultaneously forcing her head forward. Her brown eyes watered as pressure cut into her jaw. The savage finally released him with a whimper, stumbling back into the mud on her rear.

Zenos examined the wound with fondness. “Follow my instructions, have patience, and we will dance upon a more fitting stage than this backwater place.”

Wysteria didn’t listen, lurching at him with as much vitriol as the last. More bones and tendons were about to shatter and would cause irreversible damage. Zenos grabbed her by the face as she came within range. Her anger was was extinguished with fear, the whites of her eyes wide and wild as it peered between the gap of Zenos's finger. 

“Enough.” He snapped his palm downwards, activating a pressure point. 

The Highlander struggled barely a second before her knees buckled. The Legatus swept the woman up into his arms as she fell unconscious. She was a plump but tiny thing: light, soft, and warm. Zenos touched the living so rarely. The lack of contact, of being alone he was well acquainted with.  Hells, he knew the feeling of random corpses better than that of his own kin.

“Any further and you will break, and I would hate to see that happen before you reached your peak. ‘Tis difficult to resist plucking you from the tree now. How much stronger would you grow under my tutelage, if I fanned your weak cinders into an inferno? I wonder.” 

Sludge sloshed behind him. The ninja was not dead. He could hear her shuffling to attack. As if that would do anything. Her footfalls were like lead upon his ears. The idiot hadn’t learned her lesson.

_ Annoying pest. So be it.  _ He thought.

With little effort, he shifted the Hyurian woman onto his shoulder and drew one of his lesser blades. Yugiri went flying back with a single strike. 

“You are not worthy.” 

Zenos took a step forward, prepared to take the “mercy” he had granted her. An arrow lodged itself in the earth at his feet. His gaze settled upon a boy wielding a bow amongst other natives, holding farming tools like weapons. The Garlean would find it comical if it were not so sad.

“Get away from them, you imperial dog!” the boy yelled.

_ Interesting. You accomplished something in a matter of days what the snitch could not in three years. You continue to surprise me. _

The Doman boy blabbered away, nothing of which Zenos really cared to pay attention to. Savages that rose in resistance like this were quick to return to their cowardly ways. Once cornered, they would revert to their predictable nature. The viceroy wouldn’t go out of his way to slay them normally, but they were asking for it and far be it from him to not grant simpletons their death wish. It might serve to light a fire under another individual and shape them like the savage he held. 

Still, this left a sour taste in his mouth. How easily these vermin had tainted his excitement of catching true prey, of molding it for the hunt. Maybe that’s the way it needed to be. Fate was giving him a slap on the wrist. He glanced at the dancer stirring on his shoulder. 

_ I suppose I am acting too rashly. Confining her could be detrimental to her growth. ‘Twould be better that she remain in the wild… for now.  _

As intrigued as he was by the Warrior of Light, Zenos knew she would entertain him better if left to her own devices. The prince sighed and lobbed the woman none too delicately upon the field. She flopped like a ragdoll. Her nervous system was in still shock after Zenos’ cheap shot. She would not be moving for a while.

_ Now, to deal with these country bumpkins, the epitome of boredom. _

“Death is death regardless of the reason.” he said. “Yet you seem determined to die, intruding upon this sacred ground, turning weapons you can scarcely wield upon me. Your lives will not even begin to redress the balance.” 

He approached the herd of sheep, gathered and waiting to be slaughtered by the lion.

“How wrong you are!” Another unknown voice—or perhaps it wasn’t. He didn’t care to remember many.

A veridian light surrounded the Champion of the Savages. Healing magic. A young Elezen rushed in along with a Roegadyn samurai. 

“W-what’s… happening?” she groaned. 

The Sharlyan wrapped the Highlander’s arm around her shoulder.

The dancer met Zenos’ azure gaze before a smoke bomb obscured him from view.

“We are getting you out of here. Gosetsu—see to Yugiri!” 

Yotsuyu coughed, waving her hand in front of her. “I can’t see a damn thing… someone stop them!”

The crown prince did the opposite, turning around and abandoning the scene. There was nothing more for him here. 

“My lord?” The former courtesan trailed behind him, scurrying to keep up with his casual stride. 

Zenos smiled at the potential for the future.

_ A hunter should not interfere directly in the upbringing of his quarry. Alas, I must stoke the flames within you from afar. My epic will have its hero, and I already know the villain. With time, you may fit the role. _


	4. Hunter and Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xaela food gives Wysteria weird dreams.

The rays of light were fading from the forest canopy. The sun descended below the horizon, welcoming the cold night. Panic set in. His scent was all around her: strong, terrifying, overwhelming… arousing.

The black fox ran as fast as she could. She couldn’t allow herself to be caught. His massive paws beat into the dry dirt behind her. Normally, he was too quiet to hear, but not this time. He allowed it just so she knew how close he was. There were many hiding spots she tried to use. They either vanished when she arrived or were blocked by rubble. All the fox could do was run for her life. 

And yet, she could not understand why she felt a sense of joy. The excitement of the chase was spreading throughout her like an infection. To be desired, obsessed over, to eventually be cornered and taken, or snap back and force the lion to retreat—all of it made her adrenaline rush over her in waves, each one stronger than the last. Contradicting needs consumed her. She wanted the lion far away from her and to never give up his hunt. 

The fox took a wrong turn and found herself in a narrow passage. It was too late to redirect her course. The hunter was right on her heels. When she came to a cliff side, she knew she was done for. Dead end. Even so, she yipped and tried to scale the vertical rocky wall.

The monstrous lion emerged from the bushes, stalking towards her. Large, powerful, and beautiful. His third eye sparkled like a gemstone. He was savoring this moment. The fox backed herself further against the corner, baring her fangs.

With a roar, he pounced upon her. She blinked and her predator transformed. Zenos crouched above her with nary a scrap of clothing. She too was human and bare, scrambling to cover herself up. That gentle smile appeared on his face. A look that said she was the center of his universe. The dancer’s heart jumped in response, reaching for the heavens. She despised how he made her feel for guilt cut into her soon after. 

“Become one with me.” the Garlean purred. He leaned in to kiss her before suddenly changing trajectory. Wysteria screamed as he took a bite out of her shoulder. There was no pain—If anything, it felt kind of good, but what she saw horrified her.

“Feed me. Nourish me.” the Garlean was eating her alive, moaning and smacking his lips as if she was the most delicious morsel he’d ever tasted. This entire dream oozed with sexual connotations. “Endure. Survive. Live. Fill this void within my chest. Make me feel alive. Give me life— take it away.”

Wysteria whimpered. “No, I don’t…” she did want this. Her voice would not form the words to finish the lie.

Blood dripping from his chin, Zenos sat back on his knees. “Come. Bathe in the depravity with me, beast.” 

Zenos began to claw the skin off his chest, flicking it off his fingers casually as he revealed the bone underneath. There was a crunch and crack. The Garlean punched through his sternum. Wysteria wanted to flee, but she couldn’t look away from the grisly scene.

“I can see it in your eyes, the way you move, your lust for blood; you are a woman after my own heart.”

His life’s essence gushed from the wound, soaking him and her in its stickiness. No spot upon them was left unstained. Zenos reached inside his chest and took hold. With a few tugs, he ripped his heart out: a pulsing, dripping apple made of capillaries and muscle. 

“Partake of mine, and the chains you have wrapped yourself in will vanish.” he pressed the apple to her lips. “Take your freedom. Join the hunt.”

Wysteria timidly brushed her tongue along the grooves of the fleshy fruit. 

“Bite down and drink deep.”

Wysteria trembled as conflict ravaged her mind. It increased at the realization that she had doubts at all— the answer was clear! Tell him no, loud and firm. She couldn’t do it. The fruit, as disgusting as it appeared, was sweet like candy. The temptation to sin could not be resisted.

Her jaw clenched and her teeth sank in. Zenos moaned, an echo of when she’d bitten his hand. 

Wysteria awoke with a start, a bad taste in her mouth, stomach churning, and damp with sweat. No longer was she in a dusk-touched forest running from a predator, but in the security of a Mol yurt. Right. She was in the Azim Steppe. Tomorrow, she and her companions would take a trial to be recognized as warriors. The kind Xaela had even treated them to a banquet of unappetizing food that she forced down. To do otherwise would be disrespectful. 

Another rumble came from her belly, disagreeing with everything the Mol had prepared. The dancer rushed outside the yurt. She found a rock to crouch down behind and hacked up her guts for a few minutes. Her nightmare played in her head which only made her sicker. 

Awake or dreaming, the hunted could not escape her hunter. Nor did she truly wish to. 


	5. Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nsfw look at tags

It was the dead of night when Zenos abruptly awoke from his slumber. He was panting, sweat glistening on his brow, and something else— a sensation he had not experienced since his first steps into manhood.

He’d had a dream, a most wonderful dream filled with violence and pain. The Champion of the Savages stood before him; her fair, freckled cheeks smeared with specks of crimson—his blood. Over and over again they clashed, filling his chest with pressure he was unaccustomed to, a bottle of mead shaken and bubbling up against a cork. The liquid was bound to shatter the glass before moving the cork.

It was when he was on the ground, maimed and at her mercy, that she smiled as gently as one would to their lover. Her fingers gripped his hair, twisting the golden strands around her weathered fingers. His nerves sang for her as he was lifted up to his knees. Zenos found it funny that he still towered over her kneeling.

Zenos blinked and her teeth were on his neck. His jugular was severed and blood sprayed from his throat like a fountain. The Garlean gurgled as he drowned. To hear his own voice so desperate and helpless increased that odd pressure. A soft keen emerged from the savage as she leaned down and drank of his life. As the world fell to darkness, she spoke.

“I’m coming for you, dear hunter. Wait for me.” She spoke sweetly, a childlike innocence to her trill.

Do not make me wait too long, beast. Promise.

Now, he was awake and his heart was still racing. To experience a different dream beyond the fall of a broken world was refreshing. That one was… no, he didn’t want to think about it, lest it ruin the feelings he experienced now.

Zenos felt like a boy again, hoping for the day he would face a worthy storybook hero in combat. That moment drew near. If it wasn’t, he didn’t know if he could keep looking another dozen years. The fact that she stirred this much within him was a good omen. Zenos clung to that, but he wouldn’t let it get his hopes up too high. Easier said than done.

“Will you grow into the beast this hunter has long sought?” He whispered to the darkness.

There was a sudden twitch between his legs, satisfyingly painful. The Garlean threw back the comforter. His member throbbed, straining against the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Failed though you did, you have exceeded in one thing, hero.” Zenos muttered, turning on a light. “You have my attention.”

Arousal for the prince was a rare phonomenon. He’d attempted to stoke those instincts in the past, hoping they’d provide the same entertainment and feelings as slaying a worthy foe, but he struggled. He’d never felt attraction towards anyone. Naturally, as a man in line for the throne, he had been given many (far too many) offers. He was numb to their advances.

So, he tried the next best thing: masturbation. He was bored of it the second it was over. It was an artificial experience. Fake and weak. In truth, sex did not interest him. He was merely trying to find another way to feel alive. Lust and violence often went hand and hand in stories. Zenos was different. He had always been different from other men, mankind in general. He was a warrior that craved the joy of the hunt and little else. A desire like breeding was too base. It was beneath him… or so he’d always assumed.

Another surge of pleasure coursed through his loins, begging for attention. He let out a soft groan. This was different. She was different. Like him.

Curious, Zenos tugged at the hem of his small clothes and his erection sprung free. He stared at himself; his typically bored expression brightened. Never in his life had he’d been like this. His cock wasn’t just erect, it was engorged, pumping blood through the thick veins that wrapped around the shaft.

“Look at what you wrought. Oh savage, savage woman. Hmm. A fluke or...”

Zenos decided to try an experiment. He propped himself up on the plush, silken pillows. His fingers trailed against the sheathed head and he shivered. That wasn’t the dull tingle he knew. Finally, his large hand wrapped around his well endowed cock as he thought about his dream.

The savage was running towards him, teeth and blades bared as she swung at him. The steel cut into his cheek, digging into the exposed flesh so deeply that his tongue could taste the blood within his mouth—

A grunt erupted from his chest as he pulled the foreskin down, exposing the weeping head that was slick with pre cum.

“Yesss...” He hissed, azure eyes alight with fire.

His mind returned to the fantasy, stroking steadily. The hunger in her eyes, the pure fury, and lust for violence so like his own. She howled with laughter, twirling out of his reach only to kick him square in the gut. Her heel dug in so hard that the armor protecting him may as well have been nothing. Bones cracked and organs ruptured.

“Savage...” He moaned, a far bit louder than he had expected. Zenos didn’t care. He felt a sliver of life crawling through him and he intended to catch the full emotion of this lust.

He found himself focusing on other aspects of his dream, the way the sweat gleamed on her skin, the ebon twintails whipping through the wind, how her muscles flexed through her movements, and her breasts bouncing with her momentum.

His hips bucked up into his hand and he whimpered, a sound that caused him to suddenly chuckle. To hear his own voice make such a pitiful sound; to think that she made him do that.

“Damn you.” he grinned. “Fiery bitch, this—haha—ohhh by the empire this is—nnngh!”

The prince swiped his thumb along the mushroom head, tracing the slit back and forth. It tingled so much and he growled as he spread his seed. His mind was getting off track, no longer following the canon of his dream.

“I will… I will—ahh…”

He said through clenched teeth as he suddenly imagined throwing her to the ground and grabbing her by the head to hold her still. His hand fumbled with his belts and sash, pulling his member out on the battlefield. Faceless onlookers gawked, but did nothing. They were decorations, in dreams and in reality.

“I will rend you, ruin you.” Zenos purred, arching up against his hand. “You are mine.”

The hero tried to fight him, squirming and screeching like an animal in his iron grip. Her loincloth was ripped off, revealing her wet, dripping sex, a succulent pot of languid honey.

“Mmm… my vixen is in heat, is she not? Oh, you want this.” the viceroy leaned his head back as his pleasure rose sharply. “Do not deny it.”

His free hand stroked the bed sheets, pretending it was her flower, gliding his fingers through the damp, fleshy petals.

“You want this.” He repeated, the tip of his finger catching on a snag of thread from the blankets. He let that substitute for her clitoris.

“I want it.” She admitted.

“Say it. Tell me what you desire, savage.” two fingers were shoved in deep, pumping in and out. Her slick shined on the metal gauntlets.

The fallen hero mewled. “Take me. I need it…” she was as desperate for this as he was. He knew it. How could she not be? He saw her eyes in Doma, the way she looked at him—hated him and yet… well, he wasn’t naive. He’d had enough nobles falling over him to know. It was mixed with the anger, envy, but it was there. The combination made accepting it more palatable. He still felt the need to roll his eyes but perhaps not so hard as he did to other suitors. His great grandsire was right. This play was a comedy, and he was just as much a fool as the rest weaklings. At the least, he’d make sure he was the best performer to have lived.

“What do you need?”

Faster now. He could hear the slick squishes of his gauntlets against her begging cunt.

“I need you inside me. Fuck me! Ah, but I shouldn’t! This is immoral!” She squealed.

“You will.”

His grip tightened around his dick, imagining his girth being squeezed by the Highlander mongrel’s slick chamber. Zenos struggled to push through, but he did, and she endured taking all of him. Of course she would. Small though she was, the perfect prey of his dreams could handle anything he dealt out.

The savage continued to squirm, but the flutter of her nethers told him her true feelings. She moaned grinding back against him only to try and scramble away. Zenos held onto her hair, jerking her head back like the reins of a chocobo. If she truly wanted to escape, he knew she could. She simply didn’t want to. It was an act to spare her pride.

The woman shimmied her ass from side to side, allowing him to fill every inch. Her head was filled with such conflict. How pitifully cute. The villain had claimed the hero in a way told in no fairytale. The forbidden act only intensified the pleasure.

Finally, the hero lowered her torso to the ground, giving her arms and hands the freedom they needed so that she could massage her aching pearl.

“Take me o’ great hunter…”

A tad too poetic, but Zenos’ ego accepted it. This was his fantasy. He made the rules.

“Such a filthy, shameless little savage you are. But of course.” he leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You have been starving for this cock. Count yourself blessed, girl. Let me fill you.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Mm, begging does not become you, but as you wish.”

Zenos gave her no mercy, fucking her long and rough and she loved it. Pressure was building up in his cock and his balls throbbed. Her pussy suddenly gripped him so hard that it nearly hurt.

“Zenos…” she called him by name, as an equal, another human being.

He was losing himself. His other hand came to his mouth, the one the savage had bitten, and he traced the teeth marks with his tongue.

“Savage… savage… savage!” He groaned, thrusting his hips up erratically as he reached the edge.

“Zenos, give me your seed. Breed me!” he briefly imagined her swollen with his child, a primal thought he believed was beyond him. The Garlean bit his hand harder, drawing fresh blood. Metallic flooded his mouth. “Zenos! Zenos! Zenos—“

A roar was ripped from the viceroy’s mouth as he came, sending ropes of cum along his belly, hot and sticky. He growled and snorted like a raging bull. His eyes rolled back as a heavy dose of pleasure raced through his veins, overwhelming his entire body. His legs strained and shook in a way he’d never seen before, forcing his toes to curl.

“Yes! Yeeessss! Ahhh… yes. My girl… my good girl...” Zenos wound down from his orgasm. The semen dried quickly and looked like a thick paste. A bath would be in order. He chuckled, recalling what he had shouted. Good girl. His good girl? Ha! “I have lost my mind.”

********

Meanwhile at Rhalgar’s Reach...

_Nnngh… oh gods, what am I doing? A-am I really doing this right now?_

Wysteria whimpered as she touched herself, working up a slick like she never had before. She thought of the battle, the rush of it all, the man underneath the mask… his smile. Those eyes, abyssal chasms that filled with light when he looked at her. She loved—no, she was enamoured with how he looked at her. It was wrong, but she craved more.

Her mind couldn’t come to terms with this and fought the will of her heart and body.

_Think of someone else. Hien! Think of him…_

She focused on the handsome Doman prince: shiny black hair, kind green eyes, and a well toned body. He was a dreamboat of a man. Despite this, the XIIth Legatus stole her thoughts away. She could pretend she had a crush on Hien, could even fool herself into believing it; she knew the sick truth.

Wysteria began bargaining with herself, trying to find some excuse to let her thoughts roam free so she could obtain the pleasure she sought

_It’s a fantasy. It's not what I really want. I’m trying to get off. Taboo things are arousing, and Zenos is… such a strong, challenging, frustrating… fun opponent. And gods dammit, he’s gorgeous and I hate him!_

“Zenos…” the Warrior whimpered, circling her sensitive nub with the tip of her index finger.

It felt serene. When was the last time she had been this aroused? She couldn’t remember. Wysteria never had a proper and satisfying orgasm mostly because she didn’t know her body like she should. It was wrong for her to be ashamed of taking care of herself, but alas. Tonight was different. She was so sensitive, so horny. She couldn’t resist the pull.

_Please, I don’t want to think about him. I shouldn’t._

But she did. She wanted to throw away her morality and enjoy herself. Wysteria gave into the fantasy, relaxing and spreading her legs further apart.

_Oh, Zenos yae Galvus, fuck me. Screw my brains out!_

She pressed a finger inside her. His wouldn’t feel so small, she knew; they’d be huge, filling her to almost bursting. She realized she enjoyed curling them up against that spongy area against her forwardmost wall.

“Perverted savage.” she could imagine his eloquent voice, drawing out each word as if he shape each one delicately with his tongue.

Wysteria moaned louder than she intended. She prayed to Rhalgar and all the kami that the rebels wouldn’t hear her.

“Cum for me, girl. I want to see you writhe for your enemy, aroused and dripping wet.”

He’d never say such things, but she wanted this to end. Wysteria was quickly approaching the edge and a few precise nudges is all it would take to send her crashing into bliss.

“Lick and finger me.” she pleaded to the phantom of her fantasy. “Ruin me!”

She looked down, imaging his blonde head between her legs. His gaze met hers, stroking her with his tongue, tantalizing her like an incubus with smooth, enervated caress. His expression drove her up the very cliff she was desperate to dive from.

“You taste wonderful.” he growled. “Delicious. I have waited so long for this. Mmm…” he devoured her like he was starving. “Good girl.” She wanted to hear him laud her. She wanted to hear her name roll from those lovely lips. “You are a very good girl, Wysteria.”

Praise kink confirmed. Not that she was surprised by that news.

She was almost there. Just a little further. Zenos inserted another finger. Wysteria stuffed herself with as many as she could to help her imagination.

“Cum for me, savage! Forget the world. Forget everything! Do you not deserve this pleasure? It’s yours! Take it! Yes, there! Do not fight it! Embrace the pleasure I give you. Drown in a sea of bliss...”

Wysteria slapped a hand over her mouth as she came hard, muffling a scream. She trembled, squirting all over herself and making a mess. When she came down from the high, she fought back tears.

“Oh no...” she sat up and felt shame immediately.

She had laid there, pleasuring herself to an imperial tyrant. The dancer curled up and cried, disgusted with herself.

_I’ve never felt so good touching myself before._

She closed her eyes, causing a tear to slide down her cheek. “Why Zenos? What’s wrong with me? Do I…”

No. She wouldn’t even humor that insane impossibility.

“Kami, help me. Kami, help me… help me, please.”


	6. Letters

_ Dear Zenos, _

Wysteria stared down at the parchment, squinting in the candle light. She crumbled it up and tossed it towards the wastebasket. It missed, settling down with others of its kin that had also been rejected by the Warrior of Light.

“Too formal.” She grumbled and tried again. 

_ Hey, Chocobo-Butthead _

Actually, that was too insulting. She couldn’t compare the feathery and cute (and admittedly stinky) giant birds to someone awful like Zenos.

She heaved a long and dramatic sigh as she sunk deeper into the plush chair. It was old, and she nearly couldn’t climb out of it once it swallowed her, but it was comfortable, a nice tight embrace. It was comforting. 

Why was she doing this again? It’s not like she planned to send it. This was more like a form of meditation.

“Focus. Find your center, take the strongest emotion, and…” 

She started writing.

_ When we meet, I will take you down. You are going to pay for every horrible thing you’ve done. _

Her thumb anxiously brushed over the feather of the quill before she continued.

_ But not through death. Not torture either. One is too easy and the latter… I hope the Alliance doesn’t stoop so low. If they do decide that, I will do my best to talk them out of it. You’d probably find some way to relish in it anyway. We “savages” are better than that. _

_What will happen to you then? You’ll stand trial and be found guilty; there’s no doubt there. So, what will be your sentence, I bet you’re wondering. Imprisonment in a cold dark cell is too good for you. No, I will personally subject you to back breaking manual labor for the rest of your pitiful life. Brick by brick, you will use your incredible_ (maybe that was a bit too complimentary but she was on a roll) _strength to rebuild the very nations you terrorized. You will compensate these people for everything the empire took from them—what you took from them. I will be your warden. You will answer to me and carry me around and fan me and feed me grapes on a fancy couch if I want you to! You get it?_ _This beast has claimed you for herself, and I will convert your imperial soul to “savagery”. You’re mine, Zenos._

The Warrior was trembling as she finished, panting as if she had finished an enduring battle. And godsdamnit all, she was horny again. With a growl, the letter was fed to the flames.

************

Zenos peered outside his bedroom window, casually twirling a pen in his hand. The hounds were rushing to barricade the inner part of the city. There was little time, and the task masters were whipping the conscripts to work faster. Their hollering was a dull sound he easily tuned out. The barriers would hold the savages back for a while.

“Just enough to build up the dramatic tension.” He muttered to himself. “I look forward to your grandiose entrance.”

His thoughts turned to the beast. On the eve of battle, he did not wish to speak to anyone. She would be the exception. Zenos did the next best thing and set his pen to paper. He didn’t expect to send it. This was more for himself. 

_ Warrior of Light, _

_ That is what they call you. I for one believe Warrior of Blood is a more fitting title, for you leave a trail of bodies wherever your steps take you. Tomorrow, we shall clash. Do not fail me. I am counting on you to bring our meeting to a legendary climax, one that will mark the annals of history forever. When you break through the doors, I want to see a ferocious beast, and not the pathetic pup you were when we first met.  _

_ Only you can satisfy my insatiable appetite for violence. The stage is set. All the actors are in place, and we hold the leading roles. Bring me a storm, and let blood rain from the heavens. _

Zenos took a moment to sigh, then kept on writing.

_ Let it end so I may fulfill my part. I wish to fade into you, a stepping stone in your path to glory as you carve your way through the world. I will no longer suffer in this empty, meaningless hell we call Hydaelyn. Boring… boring… boring… I shan’t hold back any longer. This is your final test. Kill me, hero. Slay your villain, and— _

He placed such force upon the pen that it broke in two. It rolled off the desk and bounced on the vintage rug. The Garlean leaned back in his chair and looked back out the window. The moonlight washed over him, painting him in silver hues.

“Bring me joy as I have never felt before.”


	7. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garlean = a Latin like language is my headcanon.

Leaned back in his throne, cheek propped up on his hand, Zenos opened his eyes. Even in the brightly lit audience chamber, this red flash would draw anyone’s attention to the prince. They radiated with his new power, one greater than that of a hundred Echos, the Resonance. The man had thought his sight was exemplary before, even among other Garleans, but now he realized how blind he, and all of mankind truly was.

It was oh so very faint, but Zenos could see the wisps through the walls, the shapes and colors clinging to his soldiers like smoke— aether. In most, it flickered like a spark, hardly noticeable. A few blazed like a brazier, revealing their magical aptitude. And then there were the spheres, condensed aether that could not venture past the soul; they were native born Garleans, their very flesh a prison like his. Well, it used to be.

Zenos had obtained the solution. Fordola and the peons he’d subjected to the experiment before were lab rats and little else. They proved useful for his own gains. With the prototypes a success, Alus mas Asina had the research necessary to conduct a flawless procedure. Zenos was that perfection, the best result one could hope for.

Zenos held his hand up to his face, squinting to inspect his own aura. It was not unlike the mages, but it did not flow quite as well either, clotting like blood around the edges. The Garlean “curse”, as he liked to think of it, fought to contain him even with its chains broken. In time, that would change, and he was confident he would wield aether better than those fluent in its manipulation. 

The possibilities of the Resonance were endless. What he planned to do with Shinryu was one of many, and he wanted this Hyur to be worthy enough to witness his glory. She had to be tested, first.

An unmistakable flare caught his attention and he smirked.

_There._

He saw her, brighter than all the others, shining fluorescent white and sky blue. The shapes of mana extended not as far from her body as the magic users, but it’s shape took a recognizable form: the Nine-tailed fox spirit of Far Eastern mythology. He supposed that was fitting for one that carried the name Kitsunebi, or foxfire in the Common tongue. He wondered if she knew that’s how she molded her Echo. Probably not. Strong though she was, her skill in using her gift appeared to be lacking. 

“Wysteria Vulpes Ignis, Bellatrix Luminis.” He uttered in Garlean: Wysteria Kitsunebi, the Warrior of Light.

The beast destroyed the barriers blocking her path and was now engaged with the machina warriors guarding the doors.

_Neatly packaged and topped with a bow. You have been very busy since we last met, but so too have I. I’ve looked forward to our reunion._

One colossus down. She was wrestling with the other. Zenos watched her aura intensely.

_I will tear into you. Claim. Own. Mine._

The head of the last automaton went flying off its shoulders. Zenos closed his eyes, extinguishing his Resonance sight. The Highlander kicked the door in, not that she needed to. They had never been locked. 

With a smile on his lips, the viceroy rose from the throne and drew his blade. 

_At long last, my gift arrives._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the prompts are done. I'm just super late, but that's okay. I finished it and that's better than nothing.
> 
> If you're curious to see how this continues, you can check out Dawn Lily, Dusk Rose here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366674/chapters/48297745  
> I took the opportunity to make these short stories like a prequel to it, but it's not necessary to start it either.


End file.
